


Beauty Wears the Laurels, Speechless

by LaBelleIzzy



Series: Poindexter the Red and Nurse the Poet [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dex is a sculptor, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nurse is a poet, POV Alternating, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13601040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelleIzzy/pseuds/LaBelleIzzy
Summary: Nurse is a poet, come to commission a statue celebrating his recent awards at the poetry festival.Poindexter is a sculptor, up and coming among the influential and wealthy of Athens.Neither of them expected to react from anything other than professional courtesy when meeting the other.They're going to be PROFESSIONAL, gods dammit!





	1. not quite dumbstruck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madameofmusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madameofmusic/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nurse and Poindexter meet.
> 
> This is going to be fun... =)

The most beautiful man she’s ever seen walks into her boss’s sculpture workshop. His chiton is blindingly white, clean with a beautiful braided decorative edging, his long muscled legs strong and brown in his dusty sandals. The fibula anchoring the chiton at his left shoulder is bronze with a lovely blue stone anchored at the head of the pin. His hair is lightly oiled and falls in artistic curls across his forehead. Foxtrot’s heart stutters a little as he flashes white teeth in a smile designed to charm.

“Hello, I’m looking for Poindexter the Red? Have I found his studio?”

“Certainly, sir, he’s working on a commission right now and has asked not to be disturbed. May I know more about your business with him?”  
Whiskey and Tango continue working, or perhaps pretending to work as they surreptitiously inch closer to hear the conversation. (Tango is always so curious)

“I’m looking to have a portrait done, in something different from the usual style, and I understand your Poindexter is the man to see for an innovative sculpture. My parents want me to have something to commemorate my recent laurels in the poetry festival, and we have heard good things about this studio.”

“Of course sir. Would you like to wait for Master Poindexter, or would you like him to call upon you at some other time? If you choose to wait, we can offer you some refreshment.”  
Tango and Whiskey aren’t even pretending to work now, just rearranging tools on the workbench and listening avidly.

“Thank you, yes, refreshment would be very welcome. Shall I make myself comfortable?”

“I can invite you to use the seating in the shaded patio, sir, and I’ll bring out a tray shortly. Thank you for your patience!”

She swats at the apprentices as she passes through to the space they use in lieu of a kitchen for the sculpture studio, and they scurry back to finish their tasks (sketches for Whiskey, roughing of an apprentice work for Tango). Foxtrot collects a bottle of cold sweet wine, a bunch of grapes, and quarters a loaf of bread, putting it all, with some of the soft cheese Master Dex favors, onto a tray. They definitely eat well, working here, which is a blessing and not something apprentices to an artist can always say.

After a short period, Foxtrot sends Whiskey in to check on their master. (Whiskey at least can do so silently, and rarely interrupts Dex with unnecessary questions) He comes back to report that Master Dex looks close to done with the current phase of the giant sculpture in progress, and that he’s seated near to the floor working on the pedestal, instead of up on the ladder with a chisel.

Foxtrot dares a glance into the workshop space, and sees Dex standing paused, critically eyeing the proportions and details of his work. She raps softly on the wall next to the doorframe. “Master Dex, a new client is here to see you about a commission.”

He glances up and nods, swiftly losing what she likes to call the artist’s eye. His face shifts through frustration and into his business negotiating face. She adds, “I made him welcome on the north patio and took him some refreshments.”

His face breaks from the gathering up of the business face, which is pleasant enough to the uninitiated, but reforms in a genuine smile. “Foxtrot, you are a credit to the studio. I’m so glad you’re here to make sure I don’t insult some wealthy patron by forgetting some point of etiquette or hospitality. Thank you.”

She smiles down into her peplos, quietly pleased, and her hair swings to brush her shoulders when she nods. “I’ll make Whiskey and Tango clean up in here after you meet the young aristocrat.”

***  
Nursey walks into a low ceilinged portico or porch, loosely divided into a number of workspaces with several artworks in various states of progress. There’s two young men with skin several shades paler than his own, though nowhere as pale as most native Greeks. And there’s a lovely young woman, brisk in movement, whose entire demeanor declares “I’m in charge here” and whose updo is a work of art in itself: practical, but entirely stylish. She’s at least as brown of skin as Nursey himself, and her direct and friendly way of bossing around the two young men is entirely charming.

She answers his inquiry directly, politely, and offers the hospitality of the house. Or the studio, whichever. It ends up with Nursey ensconced on their shaded northern porch, with a decent enough cup of wine and a plate of cheese and fruit that’s definitely tolerable. He knows he’s spoiled by the table his parents keep, and he works to keep an open mind and not become one of those bratty nose-in-the-air young men who scorn all food inferior to what they have at home. Nobility doesn’t stay to grace those who make people feel less than, for their style of entertaining.

Besides, this is infinitely better than the food you get when travelling by ship. Nursey knows enough to be thankful that the kind gods are feeding you at all and that you’re on land and not on the ocean. So he mentally toasts to Hermes and takes another drink of the wine (which becomes increasingly delicious, the more he drinks of it, of course).

The lovely young hostess comes back to bring him to meet the master sculptor he’s come into town to meet. Apparently his work is all the rage among the wealthier families, and he’s said to have an eye for line and form like Nursey has an ear for words and rhythm. Nursey’s looking forward to meeting this Master Poindexter.

She ushers him into a tall ceilinged workspace with light apertures high in the walls near to the roof. Everything in the room is of near titanic proportions: most are demonstrably human figures, in various stages of completion and formality of pose. Nursey notices a few decorative elements with an incredible amount of detail and admires them on his way into the room. 

They cross the room, and a blaze of red in the sunlight catches his eye most poetically. That red is not a color one frequently finds in nature, not in Athens, anyway. It’s the hair on the head of an impressively muscled man, who’s working with hammer and chisel, wearing a battered chiton and a heavy leather apron. As they approach, Nursey notices various cuts, scrapes, and scars on the man’s hands and arms, and that his lap and apron is full of marble chips and dust.

But his HAIR. and that SKIN, as pale and lovely as the alabaster of some of the sculptures half finished in the studio, scattered with warm golden dots as densely and randomly as the stars of the night sky when at sea… 

The young woman murmurs, “Master Poindexter?” and the lovely man looks up, and Nursey is lost. Lost because his face is as compelling as his body. His expression is mobile as he obviously forces himself to drop focus on his task and pay attention to Nurse, a new client. His face shows a moment of mutiny before settling into the shape of a polite greeting.  
***

Dex pulls his attention from the current challenge of the sculpture in front of him as Ford clears her throat gently. He is momentarily annoyed, because he’s almost figured out how to solve the shadowing and proportions, but he remembers this is an important commission who’s come down to the studio for a consultation. Nurse, the poet.

He makes himself look away from the vein of marble he’s been staring at for minutes straight. He looks up, and UP, and into the gorgeous face of the smiling man in front of him. Ye gods, he’s tall. The feelings of attraction are immediate. Not that he can try to do anything about it right now, the man is a CLIENT and Dex is PROFESSIONAL. Blinking a few times in the bright sunlight at his back, he puts a professional greeting smile on his mouth and rises from the hassock he uses when working at knee to waist level.

They see eye to eye. Dex is NOT used to that. Few Greek men are as tall as he is and he’s used to that slight advantage when dealing with the upper classes. But Nurse and he are the same height. It’s slightly disturbing, but there are amenities to observe, and scripts to follow.

Nurse offers his hand: “Nurse,” he says, as though they are social equals. Dex is thrown off for the third time in as many minutes. “Poindexter,” he replies, and grasps the proffered hand. The color contrast he sees as his fingers wrap around the other man’s is nearly as engaging to his artistic sense as the smooth warm flesh beneath his scarred and callused fingertips is to other parts of him.

Professional, professional, right.

“Nurse, I hope our Foxtrot here has taken good care of you?”

“Yes, your Foxtrot has been most hospitable. I enjoyed my visit and the refreshments.”

“I am glad to hear that. Thank you, Foxtrot.” She nods and leaves the studio.

“Very well Mister Nurse, what can you tell me about the commission you want me to make for you?”

“I’m looking for something that reflects, well, my family’s social status, and also is a reminder of my most recent success in the Lenaia festival. I earned the laurels for my poetry this year.”

Dex nods, eyes attentive. A small quirk of the mouth is all he allows himself.

“But I want something that feels like me, looks like me being natural, perhaps casually lounging, not posed and formal. I want something that nobody else has.”

Dex looks at Nurse with narrowed eyes, assessing. He feels his artistic sense blossoming, and tries to look at Nurse like a puzzle to be solved rather than a beautiful man who makes his heart beat faster. He tells himself he is allowed to be engaged with a puzzle; it is … probably unwise... to become fascinated with a lovely, charming client.

***  
Nurse is intrigued. He can’t remember anyone looking at him quite like this before. The smirk gathers itself on his face and he knows he’s going to try and say something clever when Dex holds up a hand in an obvious cue for silence, and quirks an answering smile back. Without a word, Dex says, “wait right here, just a moment” and walks to the far side of the studio.

And then he gestures at Nurse to walk over and meet him. Still without speaking, Nurse does so. This is unusual for him, he’s used to filling silences with speech, but he’s oddly comfortable with this man, as new as their acquaintance is. He watches Dex watch him walk, and has to restrain his momentary impulse to see what would happen if he changes the mood of how he moves. But no, he should be professional, he’s HIRING Dex after all.

He can’t resist grinning charmingly at Dex when he arrives by his side, though. “Like what you see?”

Dex just eyerolls.

Nursey laughs.

This is going to be FUN.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: thanks to @DizzyRedhead for moderating and for encouraging me to join this challenge! I’m glad to be filling a prompt for @madameofmusic because I like her fic too! I hope that all of you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll continue to work towards finishing it, some point after the deadline.
> 
> I was really happy to take this prompt on because I'm getting to use my knowledge of Classical Greek culture and ritual. I'm still a practicing Hellenic pagan, and I'd like to include some of that in the story if I can find ways to make it fit.
> 
> Vocabulary terms: A chiton is the draped garment worn by Hellenic men. It attaches at one shoulder, usually tied or with a pin similar to a safety pin, and it's belted at the waist to hold it in place, sometimes once, sometimes twice. A peplos is the feminine version of the garment, it ties or is pinned on both shoulders, and sometimes has sleeves devised with additional pins. The Fibula is the Latin term for the pin which holds the peplos or the chiton at the shoulder, or which holds the heavier cloak like garment, the himation or chlamys.  
> The Lenaia was a festival for Dionysos, who among other things, is the god of ritual theatre.
> 
> https://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clothing_in_Ancient_Greece  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fibula_(brooch)#Bronze_Age_fibulae  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athenian_festivals
> 
> Also: just found this great tiny video on A Day In Ancient Athens:  
> https://youtu.be/ar8S6virCwM


	2. the flow of conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nurse invites Dex to his home, ostensibly to talk about placement of the sculpture.

*****  
Nursey watches Poindexter lead his aged horse up the path that led to Nurse’s family home. The morning sun strikes his brilliant hair, again, just like the first time they met, and Nurse groans a little, internally. He hasn’t gotten any less beautiful than when he was master of his shop. As a matter of fact, watching him walk, strong & confident, turning to the horse and patting its nose with a smile and a word in its ear… it shouldn’t be possible for the man to get even more attractive. 

Nevertheless…

Nursey bites his lip and busies his hands in some of the tall garden flowers, watching Poindexter sideways and from under his eyelashes.

Ollie, the Nurse family’s groom, quietly comes up to take Poindexter’s elderly mare and care for her. The redhead starts when the reins are taken from his hands. It’s obvious he’s slightly surprised but tries to hide it, glancing over where Nursey is standing.

Nursey, amused, tries valiantly to suppress a sly smile on his face. He hopes he succeeds, because he wants Poindexter to feel welcome, not uncomfortable.

“Nurse,” he hears, when the other man is a few feet away.  
“Poindexter,” he nods, acknowledging the greeting, and finally letting his smile fly free. “Glad you could make it out.” 

They shake hands again, possibly standing a little too close to one another, possibly for just a moment too long. Nursey blinks rapidly and recalls his duties as host. Ushering his guest inside, he catches Wicky’s eye to ask for a reception plate and tea to be brought out.

*****  
Nurse greets Dex in the middle of a verdant garden. In every direction Dex sees beautiful plants and excellent design layout: different vistas for different times of day, seating areas and shaded patios, an intentional sculpturing of the land. Nurse has probably appreciated where he lives but likely has always taken it for granted. It’s just his home, where he lives now, with his parents, his sister, and their servants. 

The tall colonnades and shady porticoes leading up to the main house make Dex’s hands itch for charcoal and paper. Nurse lives so casually among so much beauty. Dex almost gets angry again, thinking about things that are fair and things that are just reality. 

Dex has for years been living an urban life, a successful and lucrative life granted, but urban life never allows this kind of space to be designated for leisure, nor does it generally provide miles of green to rest one’s eyes upon. He expects to feel resentful, and is surprised when he does not.

Nurse is talking. It feels like he’s made of words, and it’s strangely easy to relax around him. The sound of his voice is soothing, the cadences pleasant. It seems obvious that Nurse wants him to feel comfortable, wants him to feel welcome, and is trying to be a good host. Dex feels a warmth in his chest, gazing at the man telling stories before him, with expansive, nearly theatrical gestures for punctuation.

Is it possible for a man to be TOO lovely? 

Perhaps it is simply that he’s inconveniently lovely, since he is a client, but then, they would never have met, were he not a client. Dex snorts, thinking, he is therefore _conveniently lovely_.

“I am pleased to amuse you, Poindexter.”

“You do indeed do that, Nurse.” Head cocked, Dex feels the small, genuine, lopsided smile this man seems to draw forth from him, more and more often the longer they are acquainted.

“May I offer you some hospitality?” Nurse gestures towards the main house. They’ve been strolling long enough in the gardens that Dex does feel hungry. It’s been long hours since lunch, and hard work this morning too, moving marble and wood in the workshop, and chiseling out roughs for other commissions.

“Thank you, Nurse, I’m glad to accept your hospitality. Lead on!”

Nurse’s home is comfortable, graceful, spacious. Colorful. Appealing. Well-appointed. Nurse speaks a word in the ear of a slender servant, who smiles, nods, and disappears swiftly.

Nurse sinks down with ease onto a pile of pillows on the divan, gestures at a game of senet nearby. “Do you play?”

Dex feels awkward. “No, not well, I’ve watched others play but I generally don’t have time for social games. Work is busy recently.”

“Ah.”

And now he’s made Nurse feel awkward. This is just great.

The silence stretches out, it must be Dex’s turn to say something.

“So, is your family… from around here?”

Wonderful. Perfect. Exactly the smooth and cultured conversation starting comment he wanted to use with a damn POET.

His host, his PATRON, doesn’t seem to mind much, though, judging from his smile. 

(Those bright white even teeth in that warm brown countenance, shut up artistic sense!)

Nurse launches into a story of his life long simultaneous love and hatred of boats and travel. Dex gathers from his story that his family moved to join their extended family in Athens when Nurse was just a young boy, and the long boat journey, while miserable in some ways, was also mesmerizing and beautiful.

He’s wrapping up a glittering tale of late nights at sea under the stars and wind when the slender smiling servant returns with a platter. Hot tea, little cakes, sliced meats, pickled eggs, olives with rosemary, fresh bread and a bowl of savory yogurt. A plate of little dolmas wrapped in grape leaves completes the mouth watering picture.

“This looks fantastic Nurse, thank you, and (Dex looks at the servant) thank you.” The servant blushes and ducks their head with a quick nod as they kneel to set the food and drink from the tray onto the table, and pour the tea. Dex has enough upper class table manners to wait till Nurse settles a bit of everything onto a plate and hands it across to Dex, and to just take a moment to appreciate what he’s been given before digging in to eat.

“How about you?” Nurse’s twinkling eyes betray that he’s chosen to time his question for the most awkward moment, just as Dex has bitten into a dolma.

Dex works to convey with his face, firstly his annoyance at the timing, and secondly that he doesn’t quite understand the question. Nurse suppresses a grin and dear Aphrodite is that a dimple? He works to quickly swallow the food in his mouth and is striving to think of something more intelligent to say than, “what?” when Nurse clarifies his previous statement.

“I suppose I mean to ask if your family is also from around here. You don’t look much like a native Greek.”

Dex has always been embarrassed by how easily he blushes. 

He’s not ashamed of having come here from somewhere else, but having it pointed out how he doesn’t fit in is uncomfortable at best.

“Forgive me. I mean no disrespect, I would not choose to make a guest in my house uncomfortable. Well.” Nurse ducks his head down toward the table, smiles awkwardly. “Only a little uncomfortable, if you understand my meaning? Please ignore my rude question.”

Nurse fiddles with the teapot, pouring more tea for each of them in silence.

Dex feels the heat slowly subside from his face and neck. “Nurse,” he begins, “It’s fine, I’m not offended.” Nurse glances up from fussing with the cups and drops a relieved smile. 

“It’s fine,” Dex insists.

“It’s true my family isn’t from around here. I grew up around stonemasons to the far north and west of here. When I started to show artistic promise early, I was apprenticed to a stonecarver and sculptor in a town nearby; when I came to manhood my master came here, to Athens. Speaking of long journeys…” He smiled over at Nurse, commiserating. “I wonder how much worse it is traveling by boat than it is to travel by horse. I’ve barely been on boats at all, for all we live in a port city.”

The two men spent the remainder of the meal together telling stories, laughing, and teasing one another in a way that was barely short of flirting. 

*****  
Feeding their guests is a point of pride in the Nurse household. His mama would be unhappy with him if he were to let a guest leave hungry, and he discovers that he enjoys watching Poindexter eat. And he enjoys conversation with Poindexter. And just looking at him, making him smile. Truly the man has been blessed by the gods to be so beautiful.

Refreshments taken care of, he wants to show the sculptor how lovely his parents have made their family home. He’s proud of his parents’ taste and of what they’ve achieved together with the rest of the family.

They stroll through the gardens, Nursey pointing out vistas here and there, or a particular plant from his home country or the kitchen garden. Delicious plants are valuable, now and always!

*****  
Together, they tour the rest of the property after one last cup of tea. Nurse has now wandered with Dex all over his family property, with a mild pretense of discussing possible sites to place the statue he’s commissioning. It’s just all so beautiful, and so much. Dex feels like a poor country farmer compared to the family his new patron comes from. 

Dex did have certain ideas about what the wealthy of Athens were like, how they lived and how they treated people. It wasn’t like his ideas weren’t informed opinions, gods knew Dex had had enough patrons who barely treated him like he was human, like he would do whatever they told him to if they gave him enough gold.

Dex knows he’s a master of his craft, and he knows he’s both skilled and lucky. He’s good enough with managing people to avoid giving offense despite massive provocation. He possesses just enough self control to hold onto his pride and not blast those kinds of patrons like he was Zeus hurling lightning bolts. 

He does usually save the big demolition tasks for after one of those meetings. It helps to smash things after a meeting where someone with money treats him like a slave or a peon. 

But the people who work for Nurse’s family seem to be happy, healthy, and treated well. It feels like the family servants show Nurse a quieter kind of the affection and comfortable disrespect that Dex’s own apprentices have for him. 

And Nurse? Unlike several of his peers in wealth, he hasn’t been anything other than kind, respectful, and hospitable. He’s consistently been treating Dex like any other free man, even though as someone who wasn’t born in Athens, he doesn’t have the right to participate in the city’s democracy. 

Dex feels an admiration that’s more than purely aesthetic rise up in his heart.

Now they’re rounding the outbuildings where the animals live… Of course Nurse has his own horse, and he has to introduce her. Dex smiles reluctantly and pats his old lady Noble when she whickers as they walk by. Because all of the Nurse family’s horses are quite beautiful, as all horses might be when well cared for. Kind of like people, in that way. It’s obvious that Nurse’s family values beautiful things, caring for what is theirs.

As they walk out of the dim stables for the cattle and horses, next is a long low building from which Dex can hear barking.  
An awful LOT of barking, actually.

Nurse opens the gate and grins over at Dex. “I’ve saved the best for last, Poindexter!” Nurse waves him through and then latches the gate securely again.

“Hello, my girl, hello my best girl! Hello hello!” he calls ahead, walking swiftly into the low ceilinged building.  
What does he mean by his best girl? Does he have a wife? Or a mistress? Or a lover? Who works with the dogs? Dex has a concern.  
He hurries to follow Nurse, despite misgivings and a small bite of jealousy.

What he finds when his eyes grow accustomed to the dimness, would make a stronger man than Dex weak at the knees. Nurse’s pristine chiton is now scuffed and ruffled up, showing even more of his long muscled legs than Dex has yet seen, which Dex is absolutely not noticing and definitely not ogling... 

And atop him, licking furiously at his face and hands as he half defends himself and half pets her, is a large spotted hound, heavy in the dugs, in full playful mode. Dex breaks into a charmed smile. It’s completely unavoidable. His patron is completely undignified and by all perceptions, is loving every moment of it, laughing and wrestling with her.

Peeping noises from a nearby stall heaped with straw draw Dex over to the left… piled high in the middle of the straw are various tiny, freckled, blind puppies, whose resemblance makes it obvious that the playful dog is their mother. They are clearly too young to be taken from her yet.

“Do you see, Poindexter? Do you see why I saved this part for last? Oh, my Beauty!” he croons.

Nurse is laughing so hard that tears run down his face, and the dog eagerly cleans them from his cheeks for him. He’s wrestling with his dog and he has dirt all over his back, straw in his hair, green eyes flashing and fluttering as the dog continues to play wrestle with her beloved master.

Stronger men than Dex have fallen in love with less reason.

*****  
Nursey leads Poindexter to his favorite place in the family home. Introducing him to Beauty feels less like a decision and more like an inevitability. Nursey doesn’t actually plan on rolling around on the ground like a child, but Beauty is such a joyful love and always makes him laugh. Besides, she hasn’t been able to play for so long, carrying the pups, that he decides to just enjoy his moment with her. For just a moment, he does his best to forget about the lanky man watching, leaning in the doorframe to the kennel, smiling. No matter what a pretty picture he makes. Nursey’s happy, and dirty, and doesn’t care about his family’s dignity.

*****  
When he noticed that the sun was now slanting through the western columns of the patio, Dex had been enjoying himself for almost two hours, talking and eating together with Nurse. But if he was to get home before dark, he would need to leave soon. Athens was a civilized city but thieves and lawless men would take advantage of the cover of darkness. 

Dex would never subject his horse to the dangers of roads after dark, not unless there were an emergency. Noble is the ugliest but most reliable and calmest horse ever, and Dex rewards loyalty with care.

“Nurse,” he began, “I must take my leave of you, if my horse and I hope to make it back to the city before nightfall.”

Nurse brushes off his knees and scratches the contented dog behind her ears.

“Fair,” he says, and reaches a hand up toward Dex, who hauls him to his feet. Side by side, they walk back toward the stables as Nurse brushes dirt and twigs from his chiton. Dex is tempted to remove the pieces of straw from Nurse’s hair, but that seems too intimate for a new acquaintance, much less a new patron. Professional. Right.

“I thank your household for feeding me, and for your kind tour of your beautiful home. Should we make time soon for design of your project, and a modeling session?” 

Nurse smirks sideways, saying, “Poindexter, I shall look forward to it. If it pleases you, I’ll come to town in the next day or two to model for you, and bring the first deposit for the commission.”

“Fair," Dex echoes, as Nurse opens the stable doors and beckons Dex in to see Noble. One hand on her bridle as they walk back out into the afternoon sunlight, he offers the other hand to his new patron.

They smile and nod as they clasp hands, and Dex struggles against his Muse, who wants only to continue drinking in this beautiful man, with his beautiful hands and smile and laugh and voice. Soon enough, he reassures Her, you can look your fill when he comes to model for his portrait. 

She grumbles inside his chest, but he tears his gaze away from Nurse, mounts Noble, and rides slow and steady down the elegant path that will return him to town.

*****  
Nursey is unsurprised that the afternoon feels darker and colder as he walks, alone, back up the hill to his home. But the sun rises warm again every morning, he reassures himself. Words swirl in his head, dancing rhythms like the beat of drums, and he smiles as he feels new poems awaken in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is unbeta'd. Please let me know if there's any obvious typoes...  
> I had fun removing anachronisms from my brain while writing this. =)
> 
> This is what I think Beauty looks like. No idea what dogs looked like in Ancient Greece.   
> #10 on this page: http://abcsofanimalworld.blogspot.com/2011/08/12-most-captivating-and-popular-spotted.html
> 
> then after i wrote this, Spouse and I had a discussion about timekeeping in ancient times and spent some time reading up on how long people have used sundials:  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_sundials (fascinating shit)


	3. family is where you find it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex's Muse visits him after he's visited Nurse at home.  
> His apprentices tease him for "deets".

Dex opens the studio the day after his visit to the Nurse family estate, on fire with several possible ideas for the commission. He builds six different miniature clay models to play with composition and proportions before even making himself breakfast, and is still hard at work when his apprentices come in during mid morning. 

Foxtrot, noting his works in progress, says mildly but with a twinkle in her eye, “That new client sure is an inspiration, isn’t he?”

Whiskey smirks just the slightest bit into his apron before tidying up his workstation and getting back to his current project, while Tango stops by Dex’s table, asking Dex what was the Nurse family home like? Was it pretty? Was there going to be a good place to put Dex’s finished work? Were the people nice? What was it like having dinner with Nurse? Was it all extremely awkward?

Dex leans back from his clay models and thinks for a moment once Tango finally pauses for breath. “The Nurse home is gorgeous, Tango. So much green surrounding it in every direction. So many beautifully designed spaces, inside and outside. Their gardens go on forever, and there’s many possible places we might decide to mount a sculpture. Pretty, doesn’t remotely do it justice.”

Scratching his chin, he teases Tango with, “The Nurse family’s servants were polite and very QUIET unlike some apprentices I might name.” Tango blushes and smiles. 

“The food was delicious, the house was extremely hospitable, and my host the poet, was unsurprisingly full of words.” The boys exchange glances, and Foxtrot beams.

“You like him.” It isn’t a question. It’s oddly gleeful, especially from Foxtrot.

Dex looks up, his eyes narrow, chin out. “I don’t like him. I never ‘like’ clients. I tolerate clients, and I work with what they want and what I need in order to get the gold we need to stay in business.”

“I think you do like him.” This from Whiskey.

“Why would you think such a foolish thing?” demands Dex.

“You’ve never before, not in two years, been to see a client and raved about their gardens. Or noticed their servant, or mentioned the food they offered you. He must be nice.”

“Well…” Dex is at a loss for words.

Scratching his chin and the back of his neck, he looks up at Whiskey and Tango, who are now avidly leaning forward into the workspace and focused on him. “Well, he was kind to me. And his stableman was good with Noble. And he did feed me well, though it was probably just the kind of thing he was going to eat for himself, but …”

Dex leans back against the table, thinking. Nurse was definitely surprising. And unlike any of the other upper class men Dex had dealt with before.

“Let’s just say anyone looks good in comparison with some of last year’s clients.”

Foxtrot shudders delicately, and Tango and Whiskey exchange somber glances. They all knew which client Dex was referring to. That was the only commission last year that Dex had refunded the deposit from, because the client was so horrible to all three apprentices. Worse, he was barely more than civil to Dex, and only because Dex could make him something that he wanted, something fashionable. 

Dex reconsiders.

“You know what? It’s actually not at all fair to compare Nurse and that other client. Nurse treats me like an equal. And he … it was truly enjoyable to speak with him?” Biting his lip, Dex shakes his head slowly, frowning. No, that wasn’t fair to Nurse.

“I almost don’t know what to think of him. He’s very unlike any of the rest of our clients, who are so in love with their own status and dignity.”

“Actually…” The three have all crept closer, their faces lit up with interest. Dex lowers his voice confidentially. “He actually introduced me to his favorite dog. She’s in love with him, was so glad to see him that she knocked him over and wrestled with him, right there in the kennel, and he LET HER.” 

Dex smiles fondly at the memory. “He let her knock him down and lick his face, right there in front of me. What kind of aristocrat does that? It was so surprising.”

Foxtrot is covering her face with her hands, but her voice chimes out, gleeful. “You DO like him!” she crows. “You DO!”

Dex tries to banish his smile with a mock scowl. Standing again, he flaps his hands at the three apprentices. “Liking or not liking, there is work to be done in this studio. Herding apprentices into doing their work is not supposed to be the master’s job anymore…” 

The three of them smile and then scatter. It is obvious that none of them feels any threat is imminent, in spite of the gentle teasing they’d been doing of Dex. While he was technically their boss, these days the four of them together made the closest thing to family Dex had had in years.

Dex pauses for a moment, considering the conversation, and then deliberately moves himself away from the possible models for Nurse’s commission. Moves himself away from the thoughts and memories that made him smile. He needs a moment to collect himself, and he needs to remember that he does have more than one client right now.

There. Catching his eye just across the workroom: another project, near to completion. Close enough to done that Dex has a very good chance of meeting his promised deadline with that other client. He walks over to the other sculpture, thinking furiously in an attempt to calm his soft, warm, racing heart. 

Professionals get the job done, meet their obligations, complete promised tasks on time. A professional artist couldn’t afford to let Aphrodite distract him… or not very much, anyway. The gods would do what they would do, but Dex calls on Hephaestos for strength to finish what’s already started, and to defend him from distraction.

Though, who knew how effective Hephaestos was against Aphrodite’s distractions. He’d married her, after all. 

Dex groans as he gets back to work. He has plenty of busy work, such as the fine finishing decorative details on at least two different sculptures, that don’t require his full attention. If he is going to be distracted by his heart thumping every time he remembers Nurse laughing, or smiling, it might be best to do work that a moment of distraction couldn’t destroy or damage beyond fixing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm being really productive by way of Camp Nanowrimo. Averaging over 500 words per day between sprints on the discord server and all.  
> Um.  
> This weekend (4/15/18) is personally significant because on the same day 11 years ago that i was flying back to the US. Earlier in the day I did bust my ACL (knee). Later in the day i got the news that my little brother had died of kidney cancer, metastasized. It fucked me up pretty hard core. He was only 33. I love you, Scoshe, requesciat in pace. 
> 
> 11 years later I am married 11 and a half years, generally happy, doing stuff with my writing, and with healthy writer and fandom communities, in the best physical and emotional shape of my life, and helping out as much as I can in my various communities (including pagan and poly and queer communities.)
> 
> you just never know, how good your life could someday be, in that moment of agony. Stick around for the rest of the ride, please?
> 
> Nowadays I write happy shit and it's what I'm good at. You should write, or make, or enjoy, everything that you love, too. Life is too fuckin short.  
> Do the thing. I wanna read your stories and see your fanart and listen to your music and tell you HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR STUFF.


	4. modeling and making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first actual modeling session gets largely spent in mutual admiration.

Poindexter looks like a sculpture himself when Nursey comes in for his modeling session. His chiton is draped loosely over one shoulder, leather apron protecting his beautiful skin from flying marble chips. His muscles move hypnotically as he chisels a precise curve in the alabaster, something that’s recognizably a male human chest in bas-relief. Nursey barely catches himself staring in time to remove the look of slack-jawed wonder and put a casually interested expression on his face instead before the sculptor finally notices he’s come into the studio space.

 

“Ah, Mister Nurse, thank you for coming.”  
“Master Poindexter, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

*****

He’s flustered when Nurse arrives that morning, he was expecting him but not expecting him at the same time? He lost himself again in the process of creation on a technically difficult part of a politically sensitive subject, and wow. Hadn’t even swept up after himself, that’s embarrassing. Oh well, it’s messy work, and sometimes wants a blood sacrifice, (as he sucks at another scratch on his forearm and a split cuticle on his thumb) but he’s good at it and he knows it. His final products and his good name in Athens demonstrate his excellence. 

Nevertheless he wishes he’d pulled himself out of the project so he didn’t have to sweep the floor in front of NURSE, of all people. Sigh. Oh well. 

Dex’s Muse is purring with contentment as she watches the beautiful man wander around Dex’s studio.

He’s definitely inclined to agree with her, both on the beautiful man and on the contentment. Watching Nurse move is a pleasure, and also amusing. He’d regularly be graceful as a dancer performing, and then suddenly fall over sideways, or trip over nothing at all.

Nurse will be such an easy subject, he thinks, or at least it will be a pleasure to work on his likeness. Beauty, youth, charm, and strength. Dex's face becomes the slightest bit warmer at the thought, but he quickly gets it under control as they start talking about the project itself. 

He calls Nurse over from where he’s examining a portrait bust of a triumphant Athenian general. Nurse turns his head quickly and seems to stumble over nothing that Dex can see. Dex is feeling increasingly fond. Someone this lovely and with such irregular grace. He wonders if Nurse is distracted, perhaps composing something in his head.

*****

Nurse is composing something in his head, a chaos of words about alabaster and fire and, blessed Apollo, how is he supposed to just sit still and pose? He hopes he can talk to Poindexter while he works. That may make it easier to be watched with Poindexter’s kind of focused attention that’s sharp as his chisels.

They are talking over cups of wine and some snacks, before they get into the negotiation parts of the transaction.

“I’ve never had a sculpture made before, much less one that’s a portrait,” Nurse says with casually affected interest. “How do you usually go about this? I mean obviously we need to talk about how it will look, but …”

Poindexter is really looking at him, really listening to him, is being straightforward and plain spoken about what the process will entail. Nurse is drinking in his attention. 

*****

Dex starts by offering suggestions on specific spaces on the Nurse estate that he noticed would be good places for a sculpture installation. 

As far as the sculpture itself, he explains that he lets the gods bring what ideas they will to him, and that he helps the client choose a design based on multiple factors: the materials, the pose, the size, the difficulty of the project and the mood of the project. For some clients, he explains, cost matters most. For others, it’s a question of how the final sculpture impresses the viewer.

“You can model as much or as little for this as you want, it’s totally up to you. Once I have the initial studies done that I must have, and you’ve chosen the pose you want for your final work, you can have a lot of feedback on the design, or you can leave the details for me once you’ve made your choices.” Dex shrugs one shoulder, but he’s watching Nurse carefully.

Nurse’s skin is getting rosy, almost like he’s blushing, and Dex finds it entrancing, like just about everything else about the man… He brings out the box with the tiny model figure poses that he was so inspired by, after their talk (and meal, and laughter, and Dex basically falling in love with Nurse). Nurse’s attention is immediately engaged, and his eyes get big with wonder when he looks back at Dex after several long moments. 

*****

Nursey is flummoxed by how much he likes this man. He generally… doesn’t get attached to men this quickly, certainly not men who aren’t of his tribe, and not men who don’t belong to his social class… but there’s something so compelling about Poindexter the Red. Not only his looks, which sweet Aphrodite, are stunning. It’s how he moves, how he owns himself and his space and his skills and confidence. His physical presence, his relative quiet. 

Nursey knows he’s garrulous given half a chance; his whole family teases him about how talkative he is, how silly he can be, how far his flights of fancy will take him from what they consider hard-bitten reality. 

(What do they know about reality? Poindexter is as real as it gets. He’s so earthy and muscular, while also fiery and creative ...such an eye for beauty, and such a hand that creates it.)

Nurse is impressed with the versatility of the tiny sculptures. It never occurred to him that, in the same way he plays around with words and makes early versions of his poems, that an artist in another medium would also do that. Nurse specialized in words from his earliest schooling, and honestly hasn’t studied or practiced outside his own specialty very often. Seeing the creative process, right there in front of him, has left him in a place where he doesn’t have words to describe his feelings. 

He hunkers down low, next to the surprisingly beautiful enamelled tray holding the sculptures. After an instant of thought, Nursey realizes it makes good sense, if Poindexter has wealthy clients, he’d want to make sure he can impress them with quality materials in his displays. That kind of showmanship makes perfect sense as a foil for Poindexter’s art. 

Nurse reaches toward one of the figures, which has had a chance to dry and is a pretty solid construction from a nice fine grained clay, so handling it gently should be fine. Raising an eyebrow, Nurse asks for permission. Poindexter nods, and Nurse picks up the seated figure, turning it in all directions, and marvelling at it… the grin on his own face is contagious, it seems, as Poindexter also smiles shyly at the ground. “How long does it take you to make a figure like this?” 

“Oh, well, that depends on whether I’m visited with inspiration or if I have to work at it the long way around. Sometimes I can make a figure quicker than I can eat a meal. Other times it takes longer, or sometimes I’m just not satisfied with the ideas that have come to me. These initial design stages are, or can be, very frustrating.”

Nurse whistles. “Wow. I had no idea. I’ve never made physical art before, just the kind with the words and my mind.”

Poindexter lets one side of his mouth turn up. “Surely you must also have starting stages for poetry? I mean they don’t leap straight out of you like Athena from Zeus’s forehead!”

Nurse smiles. “Well like you said, some days are easier than others. Some works start off with inspiration and are hardly like labor at all. Some though, the struggle to name and characterize, to tell the story as I need it to be told, the rhythm of the words, to remember and to speak them, requires long struggles,” he laughs, “and sometimes lots of wine!”

Poindexter smiles back. “I sacrifice enough blood to the gods of creation already. If I did my job under Dionysos’ inspiration, I’d lose even more skin than I have already done.”

Nurse now has to rethink the meaning of all of Poindexter’s scrapes, scabs, and scars. Every one is a testament to the honing of his craft, every one is a mark of his movement toward mastery. He lets his eyes wander from Poindexter’s hands, thoroughly scarred and battered looking, with recent scrapes down his forearm and a broken knuckle - Poindexter’s index finger on his dominant hand never does close all the way from a pointing gesture.

Nurse has an epiphany about what it means, that Poindexter’s skills have been marked out on his body. Realizes somewhere behind his navel the YEARS of work he has put in to achieve excellence in his profession. It’s an unexpectedly thrilling thing to know. To know it in his OWN body, how Poindexter has used HIS body to make his art all this time.

Nurse deliberately brings his thoughts back to the artistic decision. He can definitely rule out any of the ones with rigid lines, and traditional hero poses are utterly unappealing. He’s torn between two models, one with him leaned against a minimalist laurel tree, with the branches almost caressing his shoulders, and one where he is lounged comfortably on the ground.

*****

Dex notices Nurse’s crouch as a fluid physical gesture that again leaves his mouth dry. His intense focus as he examines the small scale models makes Dex feel like a peacock, proud and preening. 

They have spent much of the allotted posing time in conversation and gentle arguing about which poses Nurse should consider… “Surely you want a pose like all the patricians want!” Dex teases, mostly to get Nurse to make a horrified face. It’s still a beautiful face, even in an exaggerated pose of disgust. 

Dex shakes his head for a moment, thinking of it, and glances down where Nurse is still crouched (how can he be so beautiful so easily?) and is examining the two models they seem to have agreed are the final possible choices.

Nurse comes to his feet with the models in his hands, interest aflame in his eyes, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

Both are suitably artistic and indicate a level of being god-touched that Nurse finds appealing, and so does Dex, quite honestly. Nurse asks for more detailed models of the two more casual poses, so he has a better idea of how to decide between them. 

Dex reluctantly points out that this will raise the commission’s cost somewhat as he ordinarily only does one detailed draft-sculpture and requires a few of the personalized details, mostly hands and heads, for a given commission. Nurse reassures Dex that he values Dex’s time and talent and is happy to pay for that value. 

For once Nurse isn’t flirting or being charismatic about it, he’s just earnest and sincere. Dex is reassured, but his feelings aren’t as simple as that.

He’s never had a patron who was so openly appreciative of his skill to his face. It’s always been a case of so and so praised Dex’s work in the context of bragging to someone else, about owning a piece of Dex’s art. 

This feels instead like a gentle, warm rain is delivering water to a parched part of his spirit, and he can feel small green things unfurling, tender and vulnerable. It’s a new experience, and he feels careful and protective.

They chat lightly as Dex finishes tidying up his space, sweeping old stone chips out of the area, moving background items out of his line of sight, and bringing a stool, a few cushions, and a divan nearer to his work station. Dex gestures Nurse into a seat on the divan, explaining briefly what he needs Nurse to do for the studies of his face and hands.

*****  
Poindexter touches Nurse with his eyes, but Nurse feels it like the touch was tangible. He feels helpless to stop smiling, and knows he may be fidgeting more than he should. It would seem they both are smiling a bit more than strictly necessary, and if Nurse holds Poindexter's gaze for a moment and grins, then Poindexter just has to put his hands gently on Nurse’s face to reposition him into the original pose.

Watching him create is fascinating. Feeling all of Poindexter’s passionate intention focused on him, on his face, is exhilarating. Nursey has never felt so actively engaged in someone else’s creative process while sitting as perfectly still as he possibly can.

*****  
Dex quickly falls to work on the bust study. While Nurse’s beautiful face is still right there in front of him, he hoists up one of the blank-featured marble practice busts of an appropriate size and the matching clay. Quick and practiced, his hands build the features of this… this client. He has to remember that is what this is, no matter how much he likes Nurse. How charming Nurse is. How comfortable it feels to talk with him, tell stories, to eat with him...

Nurse is a client. Dex swears he’s going to remember that, to keep reminding himself of that. He cannot be telling stories to himself of how soft the man’s skin must be, can’t torture himself with how he always seems to carry the faint scent of sandalwood and citrus. Professional, he says to himself, as his hands caress the smiling clay form that had assembled itself almost without his attention to it, the clay a dim reflection of the warm flesh that had clasped his hand just moments ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after this posing session, the two of them part with a future appointment on the calendar, and with such sincere expressions of esteem and respect that Dex is gonna get chirped about forever by ALL THREE APPRENTICES. =)
> 
> Editing this chapter has felt like this: but it’s apparently not Michelangelo at all! https ://quoteinvestigator.com/2014/06/22/chip-away/
> 
> I generated *so many words* during Camp NaNoWriMo in April, y'all! The delay in my updating hasn't been a lack of words to use for this, but lack of spoons... i got hit by something called Bell's Palsy on April 29th, and I've been doing physical therapy ever since. It's surprisingly exhausting when half your face suddenly, simply *doesn't work*. BUT I'm definitely improving, and I'm making videos on YouTube about things I learn about how to take care of myself given this condition.
> 
> please raise your hand if you're shocked that http ://checkpleasecomic.com/comic/02-03-01 was my inspiration for the sculpture. :)


	5. artists getting better acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex and Nursey have a magical day walking together and falling more for each other among the olive trees.

Nursey can’t believe he’s just out for a walk with Poindexter. Like, the man is BUSY, he understands that, but somehow the two of them are just casually walking around the fields and orchards in the hills around his house. Because Nurse asked him to, and Poindexter said yes.

It’s a beautiful sunny day. The city looks beautiful at a distance, as always, white gleaming limestone and vibrantly colored sails in the harbor. There’s a lovely cooling wind blowing off the harbor, and they’re far enough away from the city that none of the city smells have traveled to interfere with conversation.

The two of them walk, trying to make one another laugh, arguing without heat about what life is like, telling stories and asking each other questions.

 

Nursey is exquisitely aware of his own sweat, the wind in his hair, the smell of the dust they kick up with their sandals. And there’s also the distinct aroma from olive trees blooming. Lastly, the warm smell of the man next to him, with marble dust bringing a cooler note and onions bringing a bright tang. Watching birds fly overhead, between tree and tree, down into the scrubby grass, darting and flirting through the sky, suddenly changing directions in midair. He distracts himself from his companion, feeling his own mind hopping and swooping suddenly in different directions, taking different perspectives. 

It’s this man next to him that does it to him. How he thinks, how he speaks, the stories he tells of life in Athens, sometimes angry, sometimes bashful with his hand holding the back of his own neck… matter of factly talking about the leverage needed to move huge slabs of rock into his workshop, mathematical calculations he does at any quarry to make sure he can have the best materials for his final product. It’s DIZZYING. He knows so many things. 

Nursey learns so much about the world simply by talking with him, listening to him. He’s constantly struggling not to tell Poindexter how much the man impresses him, every time they talk. 

It’s a true struggle to not say things like, “If I am a sunflower, you are (like) the sun, all I want to do is follow you around and bask in your glorious radiance” but Nursey has at least learned enough by now to know that outrageous compliments are never going to go over well with Poindexter, they just make him uncomfortable.

Nursey wants to touch him. Wants to run hands over his chest, wants that to be something that is welcome and wanted. Wants to feel those calloused, scarred hands holding HIM. Touching him with the delicacy Nursey’s seen him use with tools, the competence he’s seen in him kneading clay and forming figures, so fast, so sure.

Nursey can admit to himself, he just WANTS. He wants the man’s smiles, wants to make him laugh, wants to touch him, kiss him, take him to bed. Nursey feels himself flush with the thought, looks down at his feet, stumbles over a crack in the earth. 

Poindexter catches him by the arm before he can embarrass himself once again with his lack of grace. But he would do worse than embarrass himself to one day manage to have Poindexter’s hands in his own, or on his skin, in his hair, his lips on Nursey’s throat, face, mouth…

Nursey trips again even before Poindexter has let go of his arm from catching him only a moment ago.

“Wow, what on earth is distracting you so badly that you cannot keep track of your own feet under you, Nurse?” Poindexter’s grin flashes out BRIGHT LIKE THE SUN. 

Nurse makes no apologies.

“Oh,” Nursey lies, “just writing poetry in my head again. I get so involved in the rhythm of the words that my body’s rhythm… gets confused?”

Poindexter snorts. “So what you’re saying is you shouldn’t walk and compose poetry at the same time.”

Nursey nods, glad that his cover story has been accepted without question.

“Perhaps we should sit down for a moment, here? You can let the words settle themselves, and I can … just sit and enjoy the view.”

Nursey is somewhat disappointed. His prime distraction, not willing to talk to him? Or, as he watches the nervous expression and tell tale rubbing of the back of the neck, feeling uncomfortable? But the lie needed to be covered, he cannot court Poindexter yet.

“I do need to let the words sort themselves, in part because lately they come easier than usual because I have been having such conversations with you that the word fountain flows well…”

Poindexter scoffs, smiling. “What? Really?” He stops and stands in the dusty path they have been walking along. “The words are coming out so well for you lately?”

Nurse, grinning, “Yes, dear man, you’ve been showing me new parts of our beloved city, you argue with me,” patting his own chest, “and it’s as though a fresh breeze blows through the dusty halls of my mind.” Nursey takes Poindexter’s elbow and shakes it gently. “Not everyone will argue with me. And it’s rare indeed that someone will insist that I am,” wrinkles up his forehead, “WRONG about something particular.”

Poindexter smiles down at the dirt and scuffs his sandal in the path.

“You’re good for my words, and I’m glad I’m able to call you a friend.”

Poindexter looks up very fast and catches the heat on Nurse’s cheeks. “I would be honored to call you my friend, Nurse. Certainly not every day I get a poet who’s won the laurels to say something like that!”

Nursey raises his eyebrows.

“No, this is actually the first time any poet has told me something good about myself.”

Nursey, teasing: “Do they tell you bad things about yourself instead?” 

Poindexter shoves at him a little, cheeks pinkening, and starts walking. “You know what I mean.” They walk in silence for awhile, before he speaks again. “And thank you, actually.”

Nurse hums a question into his sidelong glance at Poindexter.

“It feels good to hear that I am good for your art in the same way that you are good for mine.” 

Now it’s Nursey’s turn to pause and stare. “When you say I am good for your art, do you mean…?”

“I mean,” Poindexter’s face is suffused with blushes, “that you’re easy to look at AND to talk to. I mean, you’re beautiful, you already know that, Nurse. You’ve even said it yourself. It’s easy to make art from you, you’re practically already art yourself.”

Nurse is stunned. Blinking and trying to keep his face from breaking out in a giant relieved smile, because the beautiful man thinks HE is beautiful.

With a restrained, quiet smile, he murmurs, “I suppose I may indeed have said so, at some point. I thank YOU for saying so, however… it feels so different, hearing it from someone who is…” 

Nursey struggles for words and to not say the words that are on his heart. “From someone who is also of the arts, it feels different.” He swallows with some difficulty around the emotion stuck in his throat. “Thank you, Poindexter. This warms my heart greatly.”

“You’re welcome, Nurse. Are we stirring up more words for you, now?” Poindexter looks at Nurse slantwise, with a smirk.

Nursey slings an arm over Poindexter’s shoulders, laughing. He’s been hoping for ages for an excuse to do this.

“Yes, indeed we are, we are gathering words at speed. It’s a veritable word-harvest inside me, at the moment! I will have to make sure to share with you some of the words when the time comes to let them fly free from their cage!” Nursey thumps his chest as they are walking together, shakes the redhead gently, and then without any outward mark of reluctance, lets go of Poindexter’s shoulders, dropping his arm casually back down to his own side.

They walk companionably together, laughing and observing the world, enjoying the sunlight and air.

*****  
Dex and Nurse are walking together through the fields and orchards of the hills around Athens. 

They’re strolling along a dusty path, though not a main road, more like an animal trail. There’s blue sky above, grassy verges, a cooling breeze off the sea. There’s warm sunlight on their shoulders (Dex tosses a fold of his chiton over his shoulders to keep from getting sunburned). Nurse’s hair is getting long, and falls down over one eye sometimes as he glances back over at Dex. He’s definitely flirting, laughing and teasing Dex. Nurse plays with his own hair, twisting some at the front into ringlets, and Dex wishes he could touch. 

Their arms brush occasionally as they walk, and Nurse has got an odd sort of clumsiness for someone with a body as graceful as he does. Sometimes he seems to get so caught up in the words he’s sharing with Dex, that his feet stop working. Twice so far today, Dex has saved Nurse from tripping over nothing in particular, while he’s telling Dex a story… but his stories are wonderful. Detailed and rich, the rhythm of language changes from horse hooves to the gentle rocking of a boat, to the sweep of a scythe, or the sound of the loom. His stories are about everyday beauties and thoughts. 

His stories carry Dex away too, into worlds he has known but has never thought of as beautiful before. Nurse is really miraculous, a gift from the gods. Every day that he sees Nurse he just falls farther and farther, his smiles get bigger and bigger. 

But Dex can’t ask for anything. Not yet. Not until after the commission is done, done and delivered, and he is no longer in service to the Nurse family.

He’s pretty sure Nurse will want something like what he’s wanting. The way Nurse looks at him, it’s just short of hungry. His eyes that flirt and glance and smile, his mouth and how expressive it is with the stories he tells, how he bites his lower lip sometimes and looks under his lashes at Dex.

Dex is pretty sure how he looks at Nurse is also just short of hungry. He can tell from his own blushes and how his body feels loose and warm, how his heart beats strongly in his chest when he thinks about Nurse, and Dex, Dex knows he’s never been one to pretend or hide what he feels. He’s no good at that.

He wants to touch. He lets himself laugh, and talk, and tease, and tell stories of his own, because gods bless him, there’s some things that Nursey is just plain *wrong* about. 

*****  
Nursey is trying so hard to be charming.  
He knows he’s an excellent storyteller, he knows his gift with language is something special.  
He wants so badly to charm Poindexter the Red.

He’s never felt this strongly attracted to another man, this draw, this pull, like iron to a lodestone. It’s like drinking fresh clear water from a mountain spring, … just talking to Poindexter, spending an afternoon with him, is like eating delicious food until you’re full, it’s like jumping into the sea on a hot day, it’s like wrapping yourself in a warm blanket and sitting at the kitchen hearth when the winter winds blow cold outside. Poindexter feels like safety and adventure and comfort and the thrill of doing something stupid, all at the same time. Nursey doesn’t know how to wrap words around all of this, it’s too much. 

It’s momentous.

He smiles down at his own feet and stumbles because he’s not actually in his body right now, he’s in his heart and his head, but luckily Poindexter catches him before he actually falls. For a moment they are close, Poindexter clutching at his arms, Nursey still off balance… then Nursey blinks and smiles, feeling uncharacteristically shy, and Poindexter squeezes his arms a bit and pats at him before letting go once Nursey’s put his own feet properly back under himself again.

They’re talking about everything under the sun. Poindexter talks about his travels as a young man and how he and the master he apprenticed to found themselves in Athens. Nursey shares details of his childhood home, other traveling he’s done, people he’s met. They find themselves sharing gossip about the local aristocrats.

Poindexter tells stories about his apprentices and some of the ridiculous things they’ve done while working with him, but also how sweet they can be. It’s obvious that his apprentices have affection for their master and that he feels for them in turn. 

Nursey’s heart pangs in his chest at the thought. Could he? Could… we? Or rather, could they, together? There’s so much possibility here, so much fire, so much attraction.

But they are both determined to be professional. They are both waiting. 

It’s not proper to court a man in your employ, after all. You could never know if he was saying yes for you, or if he was saying yes because you were paying him. The thought of that is ugly to Nursey. He knows of others who have pressured people in their employ into relationships, and Nursey is too proud to join any number of men and women who find lovers in that way. 

Until Poindexter is no longer in his employ, he will wait. 

He will enjoy spending time with Poindexter whenever he can find the excuse to, especially since the sculptor seems to like it too. He loves making Poindexter smile, and his laugh, while not graceful, is something Nursey cherishes hearing. He longs for the time, not too far in the future, where they might touch in ways that are more than friendly, but he’s aware that this is what must be. 

For now, they are ... friends. They tell stories, they eat meals together, they enjoy looking at each other… Nursey smiles, sighs, and steals another glance at the man whose hair shines as bright as any of Hestia’s flames…  
*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I was working on final edits for this chapter and chapter 6 and realized that I needed to add a chapter to the final count. Chapter 5 was shaping up to be a BEHEMOTH so the second part, with the softer mood, is now chapter 6 and chapter 7 will be the wrap up, and the unveiling of the statue. (I'm really looking forward to writing that part.) 
> 
> Chapter 7-that-was will be its own separate story. I'm working on a now-they're-dating story which, I think I can do it justice. Taking them both to a Dionysia together. Dionysos, for those who don't know, is a very passionate god. Music, drinking, dancing, and sensuality.  
> mmm-hmmm.  
> Yup. It's gonna happen. yup yup yup
> 
> Possible second sequel if I can keep this going... I have notes. I will keep y'all posted.


	6. a pause in the search for inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a tiny intimate moment...

Dex leans his head back, closes his eyes against the bright sunlight. The wind through the olive trees sounds like the sea crashing against the shore, and his elbows dig painfully into the stone covered ground. 

His knee bumps against Nurse’s, where they are lying next to each other on the hillside covered by orchard. It is as comfortable, and simultaneously uncomfortable, as so many of their conversations are. Dex is glad he has his eyes closed so he can’t see Nurse looking at him.

He catches Nursey looking at him often, in recent days. And Dex doesn’t know what to do with the expression of open admiration he could surprise on Nurse’s face, more times than not.

So it wasn’t really like he didn’t know Nurse would be looking at him, because he did know. And he can still imagine it clearly, even with his eyes closed, so he tips his head forward and out of the direct glare from the sun, rests his head on his own shoulder, and looks down to where Nurse has sprawled himself out on the sparse orchard grass.

Surely enough, a fond smile decorates the handsome face that’s nearly in arm’s reach.

“Poindexter?” he says. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“The honor of what?” Dex feels his face frown, confused.

“Oh,” Nurse said, “You were actually smiling at me for a change, and I was hoping there was some reason for it that I could hope to replicate.”

The skin on Dex’s face and neck glows hot, and he glares down at his own feet.

“I smile at you,” he replies uncomfortably. “It feels like I smile at you a lot. Like more than for other people.”

Nurse’s face beams even wider up at him. “Truly?”

Dex nods, half a smile pulling reluctantly at his face. “Yeah. Nurse, it’s hard to dislike you.”

“Same here, Master Poindexter, same here.” Nurse’s voice is quieter, his smile dimmed a bit, which makes Dex want to frown again.

“Is something the matter?” Dex shifts to face Nurse much more directly.  
Dex feels a tightness in his throat as Nurse looks away, then back, then away again.

Nurse’s face looks unfamiliar, Dex realizes, without a smile or a look of wonder or appreciation. Is he worried? Or perhaps anxious?

Dex can feel the half-smile sliding from his own face. “Can I help with anything?” He feels his face wrinkling into a frown.

Nurse flashes a small insincere smile, ducking his head, and it’s surprising to Dex that he can recognize his true smile from a false one. “No, of course not. Everything is perfectly fine, Poindexter, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Dex,” Dex blurts out.

“What?” Nurse’s eyes widen and his head snaps up to face Dex directly.

“I mean,” Dex is blushing a little, or maybe he’s sunburned, but he’s probably blushing, “I mean, you can call me Dex.” He tucks his chin a little, feeling shy. “It’s what people I know pretty well, usually call me.”

Nurse blinks quickly several times, but at least he’s not smiling that fake smile anymore, and the look of wonder is back in his eyes. “And do …” Nurse clears his throat, “do you feel like you know me pretty well, then, Dex?”

Dex hadn’t quite calculated how it would feel to have Nurse call him by his nickname. It feels good. It feels a little like jumping off a cliff, just before you crash into the cold blue sea. His stomach is swooping, and his hands are cold, even in the warm sunshine. 

“Um,” Dex replies. He feels like his brain is clumsy in the moment, and like Hermes has stolen his words even more cleverly than he did Apollo’s cattle.

He takes a few moments to breathe and to glance at Nurse. Who is now leaned up on an elbow and turned to face him. They’re nearly face to face, and the look in Nurse’s eyes warms Dex’s cold hands.

“Yes…? I mean, I do feel like I know you. You certainly talk enough for me to know you,” Dex tries to tease, but he means it sincerely. He LIKES Nurse. He enjoys his company, feels drawn to him, wants to touch him. He can’t actually say those things though, because dammit, Nurse is his client.

“Yeah?” Nurse laughs, a small pleased thing. “If I know anything, I do know how to talk.”

Dex allows himself to collapse slowly back onto the rocky, grassy ground, relieved he hasn’t given any offense, or wounded the… friendship, let’s call it that, which has been growing between the two of them.

“Dex?” It sounds like Nurse is testing the taste of the word in his mouth. “Dex… I like it.”

Dex snorts. “That’s a good thing, because it IS my name, after all.” He gazes up into the olive branches above him, watches the bees working and flying between the many different tiny flowers, hears the quiet buzz of their wings. Thinks for a moment about how he could put bees into the sculpture for Nurse, if Nurse would think that’s a good idea.

“Hey Nurse?”

“Yes, ...Dex?” It still sounds experimental when Nurse uses his name, not like he’s unsure but his name in Nurse’s mouth sounds too much like a caress right now and it makes Dex’s skin go all tight and hot.

“Um, bees?” Dex is so embarrassed. How is it that he can’t form full sentences right now?

“Bees, Dex?” 

Even without Dex looking at his unfairly gorgeous face (mouth), Nurse’s voice clearly indicates that Nurse is amused and smiling.

“Yeah, I mean,” Dex gestures upwards, drawing Nurse’s gaze off his increasingly flushed face, “Bees. I think I want to include bees in the sculpture, kind of hidden among the greenery and flowers?”

“Won’t that be difficult to carve?” Dex glances over to see the smirk on Nurse’s face, his interested eyes.

Dex licks his lips and grins. “Well, I *do* like a challenge.”

Nurse bites his lower lip for an instant and rolls over onto his belly, his hips and torso even closer to Dex than when they originally stretched out on the ground here in the orchard. For a moment his head falls to the ground atop his folded hands, and his bent legs fall sideways, brushing Dex’s outstretched ones. He moves his legs away after a moment, but the contact has already stolen Dex’s breath.

Nurse pillows his face in his arms on the ground and mumbles something.

“What’s that, Nurse?”

Nurse takes a visible breath, the chiton rising and falling against his warm skin. He raises his head enough to say, “Well, if you like a challenge,” he winks at Dex, “please, I encourage that kind of artistic risk taking!”

Dex feels like Icarus, flying, melting, burning, falling. He nods at Nurse and his grin gets even bigger, but he has to look away from his own personal Sun for a little while. He lets himself fall back onto the stony ground, smiling helplessly up at the busy workers buzzing away sleepily over head, framed in the crooked dusty gray-green branches, dappled in sunlight and shade by the less specific, universal and actual sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...these boys are killing me with the cute. No seriously.


	7. final touches, installation, and revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The statue celebrating Nursey's laurels is finished and unveiled, and Nursey and Dex finally have that conversation. =)

The time has come to complete the last details for Nurse’s sculpture. Dex has worked for weeks on design and modeling sessions that were torture, because his desire is to touch and he can only look. He’s had to stay professional through weeks of conversation and eye contact and smiles (and is he flirting?) and that hot feeling low in his belly that just gets stronger and sweeter the longer it lingers, like brewing festival wine from dates and grapes and apples.

Dex has had to look at Nurse for all this time and then hope to recreate the beautiful smooth planes and curves of Nursey’s body... has been uncovering from the underlying marble one bit at a time the kind eyes, the high cheekbones, the lines of his throat.

Finally, the sculpture has been completed. With that face, his eyes, cheekbones, throat, beautiful hands, smiling mouth, and hair curled just so. Dex exhales deeply as he knocks the last few marble chips from the pedestal, sweeps marble dust from the floor around the sculpture.

Now for the finishing touches.

*** 

Foxtrot’s clever use of shading picks up all the folds of carved fabric included in the final work, and she’s got the exact right colors for Nurse’s eyes and skin tone. Whiskey’s skilled and careful work on the background foliage makes it seem as though Nurse really is lounging in his own home in real life, and Tango spent hours polishing the surfaces, giving all surfaces the ideal texture to take the paint meant for different parts of the sculpture. Tango will be ready to make sculpture on his own before too long but he’d actually volunteered for the texturing and polishing, saying he finds it restful and that the questions in his head always quieted while doing that kind of work. 

Dex is just as happy to supervise while his apprentices, soon to be journeymen and journeywoman, do most of the final touches. He saves certain details for himself. Lovingly going over the shadowing on Nursey’s hands. Double checking the color of his lips and eyes. Making sure that the surprise element of the composition has the correct colors and shapes. He knows that Nursey’s not expecting it, the surprise. One bonus of getting to know him over the last few months is that he knows Nursey well now, and he’s positive that this surprise will make him happy.

Finally, there is no detail Dex can find that hasn’t been polished, painted, and optimized for elegance and beauty. The four of them stand back at a distance, examining their work and smiling. 

Foxtrot elbows Dex gently. “It’s a work of art, Master Poindexter. Even more so than your usual,” she teases, with an exaggeratedly formal tone of voice.

Dex flushes red, grins and looks down at her. “We’ve done excellent work here, dear Foxtrot.” 

He expands his grin and reaches out to the two younger men, gripping their shoulders. “Well done to all of us.” Tango grins widely at Dex, then wraps an arm around Foxtrot for a hug, gesturing at Whiskey to join in. Whiskey looks shy but pleased as the four of them tangle together briefly, Dex squeezing all of them appreciatively for a few moments before letting go.

He does notice that the three stay huddled up* in what might be called an intimate fashion, but he certainly is in no place to judge or to pretend he doesn’t approve. 

Dex wants his little family to be happy. They seem to be, and Dex himself is working towards that for himself too. 

He gets together a platter of lunch for all of them, pulling out the goatskin of good wine, and fills the cups generously. All of them have worked hard and have made something they can be proud of. It’s something that their patron will be very happy with. Today they will celebrate their work, thank the gods, and rest. In a few days they will install the sculpture, just before the autumn equinox.

Happiness is in part at least, having a place where you belong, with people who care. Dex smiles into his chest about that, glancing back at the younger artists who are now laughing happily among themselves. Probably laughing at him. He would have minded, at one point. 

Now everything seems to contribute more to a wellspring of hope and joy and community than the misery of what life used to feel like all the time. Once life was full of annoyance and hiding his own true artistic opinion. Once Dex was full of anger at disrespectful rich patrons and the general unfairness of the world.

Even though the world hasn’t miraculously gotten to be any more fair, Dex knows that he has mellowed. Having the chance to look forward to good things in his life makes it easier to hope and to relax and enjoy the good things in his life.

The unveiling of the sculpture at House Nurse is something he’s now looking forward to with great anticipation. Seeing Nurse’s face when he sees the entire work, after he’s only seen the drafts… well. Dex is looking forward to Nurse’s reaction.

***

( _At the Nurse Family villa_ )

There are caterers/servants with trays of food and cups of wine or tea circulating through the crowd. Nursey snags a bite to eat and a cup for his other hand while he searches the crowd for Poindexter -- DEX. He's Dex, now. Thinking of that, even on this balmy late summer day, a shiver runs up Nursey's spine.

Dex. 

Dex who is making, or HAS made by now, a sculpture of Nursey, with those hands (covered in scrapes scratches and scars) and that mind (so quick and so clever and practical), and that heart (with the blushes, and the kind words, and the compliments that even make NURSEY blush).

Just. Dex. Nursey needs no excuse to be looking for him, because today is about both Nursey AND Dex. Artist and artist's model. Patron, and the sculptor who accepted his patronage. The sun is coming down from its zenith and Dex has said the sculpture unveiling should happen in early afternoon for best advantage. 

The sculpture is in place already, under heavy canvases and secured with rope. 

Nursey is dying of curiosity. He knows he will love this new artwork, and he's certain his parents will also. His family hasn't met Dex yet, but … they know. 

They know how much Nursey admires him, how much talent and skill Dex has, … they KNOW, is the point. And they don't disapprove, because the Nurse family understands the importance of hard work and skill as part of a man's path to success. Unlike some of his peers, Nursey won't suffer abuse from his family for his ... acquaintance, with an artist, partly because this particular artist has already made quite a respectable name for himself in Athens. 

Soon, Nursey hopes, he can find out for sure if they might become more than patron and artist. More than acquaintances. More, even, than friends.

He thinks Dex feels like he does. He's hopeful that today he and Dex can talk, and find out what the path ahead might hold.

Just as he's thinking that, a rustle rises up through the crowd. The slanting light of afternoon catches the singular and bright hair of his ... artist. Only that. Only his artist, and his friend. Coming towards him through the crowd, is Dex, with his apprentices Foxtrot, Tango, and Whiskey. They're all smiling wide and proudly as they come to greet Nursey. 

Dressed in new clothes and looking festive, Dex holds his hand out. 

“Nurse!”

“Poindexter!” Nursey feels his face pulling into a helpless grin, taking Dex's hand in both of his own. “You're here!” And then he takes a moment to collect himself. “You're all here, welcome, welcome to my family home.” He reluctantly releases Dex's hand to shake each of the apprentices’ hands.

Dex cocks his head. “Shall we do the unveiling? We're at your disposal, you know.”

Nursey watches the younger sculptors exchange glances behind Dex's back and wonders what they might know, but only for an instant. “Yes, yes definitely, I am dying to see what you have created, I've been looking forward to it for entirely too long now.” 

He escorts the four of them towards his parents, who stand under the shade of the grape trellises near the house. The water and wine jugs are here too and Nursey waves Wicky over to pour refreshments for them all.

“Mother, Father, this is Poindexter the Red, and his apprentices: Foxtrot, Tango, and Whiskey. They're ready to unveil our statue for the celebration.”

Nursey's father, Nehi, is tall like him, though darker and with a pot belly, wearing rich beautiful robes and soft leather sandals. Nursey knows he has his father's nose but it's most disconcerting to recognize his own mischievous twinkle in his father's eye.

His mother, Sitamun, is short and round, her braids sewn up in clever spirals, cascading from the crown of her head in twists of gray and black. Her robes are like ocean foam, her eyes like a stormy gray ocean, and her skin, smooth, barely marked by age, and with a dimple showing in her cheek.

Rolling his eyes at his father, he puts his hand on his mother's back, catching a glance from her under her eyelashes and a deepening of her dimple. Great. Both of his parents are going to tease him about his enthusiasm and their suspicion about his interest in Dex.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” he hears Dex murmur, with a polite nod. The apprentices all bow for a moment longer than their master, and don't speak. 

Hoping to forestall any clever remarks from his parents, Nursey says “Father, Mother, will you begin the ceremony?”

Nehi smirks gently at Nursey and inclines his head. He takes Sitamun’s hand, kissing it sweetly before leading her out to the fountain next to the veiled statue. 

Dex watches them go from next to Nursey. “We’d best set ourselves up to get the reveal ready.”

“Is that something that Whiskey, Tango, and Foxtrot can handle?” 

Dex pivots to look Nursey in the face. After a moment, (gods know what he sees in Nursey's expression), he smiles and glances at the apprentices who are standing a little apart. 

“Guess they have to grow up sometime.”

He speaks to them briefly, and they separate to stand at the corners of the canvas-robed statue, each with their sheathed stonecutter’s tools on their belt, befitting their apprentice’s status.

Dex shrugs, returning to Nursey’s side. “We weren't sure of exactly how the unveiling would happen, or if I would need to try to charm your parents and potential new clients. So we made a plan.” He was almost smiling, but a touch of insecurity was tucked into the corner of his mouth.

Nursey leans his shoulder into Dex’s for a moment. He wants to gather Dex up and never let him look like that again. Dex’s shy smile as he ducks his head warms Nursey’s heart even more than the anticipation of seeing the final artwork for the first time.

Though he wants to, he doesn’t take Dex by the hand to bring him to the circle of partygoers that’s forming, at his father’s direction, with a focus on the statue. Instead, he collects Dex with a small smile and a tilt of his head, and they walk over to join the others. 

Nursey and Dex join the circle near where Nehi and Sitamun call everyone to invoke the gods and libate in for the celebration. 

***

Sitamun begins with an invocation of Athena. She then scatters a handful of sacred barley and passes the bowl so everyone can help sanctify the space. Nursey steps up to join his parents beneath the statue. Nehi and Sitamun pour the water and wine into the ritual chalice, with Nursey holding the bowl. 

Nursey begins, libating first to Hestia, goddess of the hearth and home: “Lady, thine is the first and the last,” drinking deep. He passes the chalice to his parents, who drink, then pass it along one by one to the rest of the silent guests. They next invoke and praise Athena for her protection of the polis and the community and for her many gifts to Athens. They invoke and praise Dionysos for wine, and the warmth and bonding of the community his gift offers. Everyone is feeling warm and mellow since the wine chalice is passed for each libation. Finally they invoke Apollo, thanking Him for blessing Nursey with his talent and skills with poetry and music.

Nehi takes the chalice from Nursey and raises it high: “In celebration of the accomplishments of our son, who brings honor to the family, we gift him this statue. A commission from Poindexter the Red, who honors Hephaestos and our family with his skill.”

Nursey can see Dex blushing and smiling proudly from ten feet away.

Tango, Whiskey and Foxtrot carefully release the ropes binding the statue. They undrape and remove the canvas, bundling it all up away and out of sight. The afternoon sun strikes the work dramatically, and there’s appreciative applause, as Nursey approaches, his parents at his shoulders. His father’s hand falls warmly on his shoulder, and his mother takes his hand in hers.

He looks great in Poindexter’s sculpture, much better than he thinks he does in real life. Nursey is stunned, approaching this true work of art … but what nearly brings tears of joy and gratitude to his eyes is the inclusion of his beloved dog, Beauty, posed loyally at his feet, her mouth open joyfully. Even the details of her fur are painted in correctly. Nursey shakes his head in disbelief and wonder.

All the colors of the sculpture are rendered beautifully: bright, subtle, textured, and vibrant. There’s an incredible level of detail, almost unexpected. Though why Nursey didn’t expect that, he’s not sure, he’s certainly seen Dex’s work before now.

And sure enough, when he peers deeply into the carved foliage and flowers, he spots tiny life size bees, pollinating stone flowers.

He can’t help himself. He turns and meets Dex's eyes, where he’s standing in the circle. It feels like his whole heart is shining out of his own. They stare at each other for long moments.

Dex's face is nearly as red as his hair, and he's having trouble meeting Nursey's eyes. Nursey's heart is warm and beating as hard as a drum for a victory parade … he dimly hears his parents opening the circle and inviting everyone to admire, to eat and to drink.

Nursey only knows words, that’s his skill. He’s heard praise all his life, but never before has he felt so seen, so known. That Dex sees him like this? and worked so hard to render his perception in stone?

This is like a huge detailed love letter, carved in marble.

Nurse is surrounded by celebrants congratulating him on his laurels and praising the lovely statue. It takes awhile before he can free himself without causing offense, but he desperately wants to talk to Dex.

Pulling Dex aside as soon as he gracefully can, he says, “It's incredible, Dex. It's so beautiful. Everyone’s so impressed… I’m so impressed. I love it, I love it so much, though I'm not NEARLY that beautiful. Thank you, thank you so much for this.”

He's close enough to see the fire In Dex’s eyes as they snap up to meet his. “You *are* that beautiful, Nurse. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met.”

Dex breathes hard, staring for a moment, and breaks eye contact again. “I'm just glad we were able to bring something of that out for the world to see... forever, I hope.”

“Forever, huh?”

Nursey’s heart is warm, expanding in his chest. His fondness for this man can’t be described as mere fondness any longer... As declarations of love go, this is pretty impressive.

He wants to be as ridiculous and excessive as Dex has already been. 

“Come. Have dinner with me.” Nursey implores quietly, extending his hand, and inching closer.

Blushing again, Dex takes Nursey by the hand, holding their clasped hands together at waist level, seeming to study them. He looks up and squares his shoulders with a smile. “Yes, I will have dinner with you, Nurse.”

“Call me Nursey, Dex. It's what people who know me well, usually call me.” Nursey, grinning, winks at Dex, who groans and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Ughhhhhh, if you MUST, Nursey.” But the shy smile is back, and the twist of insecurity formerly in the corner of Dex's mouth has been utterly banished.

They make their way through the small crowd, accepting back pats and compliments right and left. They only let go of each other to accept handshakes, but then after only a moment, Nursey slides free, tugging Dex along by the elbow: “Excuse me, I have to make sure my artist gets fed!”

Hopefully nobody but Dex hears his slight emphasis on the possessive in that sentence. Nursey doesn't mind if Dex hears it. 

Making sure his guests are well fed is a host's responsibility, right? 

****

Later, after the party has died down a bit, the two of them start to wander back towards a quiet part of the Nurse family estate. 

As they approach the kennel, Nursey says softly, “So, you don’t work for me anymore.”

“Nope, I do not work for you anymore. Your commission is paid in full, and we have delivered and installed it.”

Nurse steps slightly closer, head tipped to the side, and glancing at Dex. “Does that mean that I can flirt with you now?” 

“Wait, you weren’t flirting with me already? I was pretty sure,” grins Dex, “that you were flirting with me.” And Dex moves closer too.

Brushing their hands together again feels like a rumble of thunder announcing a storm. Tangling fingers together feels like a sudden rainstorm interrupting a dusty spring day… it’s shocking, and refreshing, and you want more, so much more. Holding hands, their arms brush together, and then they turn to face each other, both of them grinning.

Nursey breathes, “Dex?” and brings his fingers up to touch Dex’s cheek.

Dex’s grin vanishes in a swift inhale of breath, and his glorious olive oil eyes close, his whole body gone rigid, his mouth slightly open. His tongue darts out to the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip catches in his teeth as Nursey marvels. 

This earthquake of a man, stunned and paused by Nursey’s fingertips on his skin. Nursey runs his fingertips softly over Dex’s cheekbone, breathing slowly and deliberately. One fingertip dances down the bridge of Dex’s nose, until Dex‘s forehead wrinkles and he snorts, dreamy eyes turning stormy. Nursey drops his fingertip to land on Dex’s plush pink lip, watching closely as the blood rises in Dex’s cheeks, that color contrasting against the creamy gold-flecked landscape of Dex’s skin that had fascinated Nursey all those months ago.

Dex’s hand closes firmly on Nursey’s, and his other hand is sliding slowly up Nursey’s arm. Nursey shivers and closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Dex’s calluses on his soft skin. He opens his eyes when Dex’s hand closes on the back of his neck, running gentle fingers along the muscles and the edge of his hairline. Dex is there, close (so close), with a slight, sweet smile on his lips. Nursey shifts to cup Dex’s cheek, and lets go of Dex’s hand so he can tug Dex in even closer at the hip. He feels Dex wrap him up in both his arms, and he waits, dizzy with happiness. He can hear Dex’s breathing, feel it soft against his neck and shoulder.

“Nursey?” Dex’s voice is low, and he softly brushes his cheek against Nursey’s face.

“Yes, Dex. Yes.”

Turning slightly, their lips meet: warm, soft, and tentative. After a few moments have passed, it’s impossible to tell who is leading and who is following in this slow dance of skin and lips and hands and tongues. Everything is slow, soft and sweet. Nursey gets progressively drunker on the smell and taste of Dex, the feel of his skin under Nursey’s hands, the feel of Dex’s competent, callused hands sliding along his arms and back and neck. Pulling free from one another for a moment, Nursey rubs his face, stubbled as he knows it must be, along Dex’s neck, like a cat. Dex moans quietly and slides his hand up into Nursey’s curls, directing Nursey back to rejoin their mouths, which Dex attacks enthusiastically with sliding nibbles and short bites. 

Nursey feels like he’s being devoured and has never been happier in his life. 

The skin on the insides of his arms is sensitive and his heart is so so full and warm as he drags his hands up and down along Dex’s back and arms, and sometimes up into that crisp fiery hair that’s as sharp as crumpled paper, enlivening the skin of Nursey’s hands just by touching it. Months of desire and wanting, of imagining what touching Dex, being touched by Dex would feel like … all those stories are coming true and the reality is even better than the stories.

Nursey pulls away for a moment and laughs in delight. Dex looks dazed and a little puzzled. “What?” Dex asks, with a slight rasp in his voice.

Nursey leans his face against Dex’s and says with a smile, “I’m a professional storyteller and poet, and this is better than even *I* could have imagined.” He kisses Dex’s cheekbone and Dex sighs and tips his head forward, leaning against Nursey’s collarbone.

“Nursey, this is so much. I can’t believe you’re right here. Here, with ME.”

Nursey cups Dex’s face in both hands. “I,” he kisses Dex’s other cheek, “am right here,” kissing Dex’s forehead, “for the foreseeable,” kissing Dex’s nose, “future.” A short decisive kiss on the mouth punctuates that statement. “This is where I want to be, learning you more and more each day, as often as you’ll let me.”

Dex’s eyes are wide, their expression surprised and a little fearful. “Don’t be surprised, my Dex. I’ve wanted to touch you since I walked into your studio that first day.” He slings both arms over Dex’s shoulders, holding him securely around the neck. “And every day since, if we are counting.”

Hands on his hips firm up their grip as Dex says, “I felt the dart of Aphrodite’s son as soon as we first shook hands. Your skin next to mine, so beautiful.” Dex brings one hand up to stroke Nursey’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Your face, so beautiful. Your eyes, your smile.” Nursey smiles at Dex and closes his eyes in the face of a sea of emotion crashing over him. He feels Dex nuzzle into his neck.

He gathers Dex in tightly, close and warm, and sinks his face into the crook of Dex’s shoulder. “You lovely man.” He breathes Dex’s scent, wood and stone and sweat and head-spinning musk, and hooks his chin over Dex’s shoulder. “Be mine?”

Nursey feels Dex shudder. “Yes, yes, always.” Dex pulls back enough to see Nursey’s face. “Are you mine as well?”

A broad smile grows on Nursey’s face. “How could I not be?” He twines their fingers together once again. Brushes his hand over the top of Dex’s hair, mostly to feel it against his palm, because the gesture does nothing to tidy the disordered strands from Nursey running his hands through it earlier. 

“Yes, my Dex. Yours.” His same hand touches Dex’s cheek again, his thumb tracing those plush pink lips, now darker from kisses. “Let us return to the party, I find I have a need to introduce you to my parents once again.”

Dex blushes but keeps his eyes on Nursey. He nods as Nursey tugs on their joined hands, following him back to the main estate, when a series of happy barks interrupt them.

“Hey Beauty, hey my girl!” Nursey diverts them to the dog’s kennel, from which small barks and whines are now audible also. Nursey walks hand in hand with Dex to see a gorgeous tumble of puppies, and the hound Beauty feeding them. 

“Once again we have saved the best for last, eh, Poindexter?”

Dex grins. “I don’t know, Nurse, I kind of *enjoyed* that part before just now.”

Nursey bites his lip. “Oh, my Dex.” 

Dex’s eyes darken and he leans in for a kiss. Whispers, pulling back just a breath: “Yours.”

Nursey’s eyes fall closed for a moment and his head falls back as he swallows. “Changing my mind,” he says hoarsely. “Let’s not go meet my parents. Come with me instead.” 

Dex kisses his shoulder and says tenderly, “Anywhere.”

They walk together back to the villa, shoulders brushing, looking at one another and grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * yes, i went there with the Huddle! pun. I am without shame.
> 
> Nursey's parents names came from here: http://virtualkemet.com/perankh/namesfemale2.htm#m (and the counterpart male list)
> 
> I also consulted https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Athena
> 
> ** I have ideas for multiple possible sequels to this. I think the series will be called "Poindexter the Red, Nurse the Poet" unless i can think of something more ... poetic.
> 
> Feel free to check my series-commas for me, and other small embarrassing editing bits.
> 
> If you have a favorite line or part or expression or mood, please tell me!  
> Same, if you have an idea for a sequel! i can't guarantee I'll write it but I'd love to hear what you think.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Which is to say, I enjoyed it immensely.
> 
> *** The next sequel will be Teh Smut. Or at least that's the plan.


End file.
